


You Call That Food?

by MouseBird



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles 2 (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 07:53:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16091279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MouseBird/pseuds/MouseBird
Summary: After the rest of the party almost dies from eating Mythra's food, Brighid and Mòrag try it.





	You Call That Food?

**Author's Note:**

> Slight spoilers for a certain side quest in Torna.

If they were outside, Brighid would have thought that the party had just had a run in with the Territorial Rotbart, but they were inside and there were no monsters in sight.

Almost everyone was on the floor in fetal positions and various states of consciousness. Her and Mòrag managed to miss whatever happened to the rest of the party, while Poppi was poking her unconscious driver, and Mythra was holding a kitchen knife, staring daggers at Rex.

“What happened?” Mòrag asked, hands now resting on the hilt of Brighid’s blades.

“Mythra cooked for us,” Rex choked out, his voice barely higher than a whisper.

Brighid’s past self from 500 years ago had written very briefly about Mythra’s legendary cooking skills. In fact, it was just one sentence that read:  
_Whatever you do, do not eat Mytha’s cooking; you will regret it to the end of your days._

Brighid was inclined to listen to this advice, her previous versions hadn’t led her down the wrong path yet.

“They are all ungrateful,” Mythra said and crossed her arms. The point of the knife was facing Brighid. If her eyes weren’t already closed, she would have narrowed them.

“Maybe your food is just inedible,” Brighid said.

Zeke butted into the conversation before Mythra could spit something back. “No, no, that’s not the case at all! Your cooking was really great that’s-” Zeke’s face turned as green as his blade’s hair. He pressed a hand over his mouth and swallowed whatever had risen up in his throat. “That’s why we are all lying on the floor,” he continued. He turned his head to Mòrag. “You should really try it, Mòrag. I insist.” He smiled, his face showing that he was up to something. Please, don’t fall for it, Lady Mòrag, Brighid begged in her mind.

Mythra smiled and placed the knife down on the table in the middle of the room.

Mòrag took a glance at the table. A thing that was barely recognizable as food was squirming around on a plate in the middle of it. There were other plates at the edges with the stuff on it, all of it was barely touched.

“Very well,” Mòrag said. She pulled up a chair and grabbed a plate of the poor imitation of food.

“Are you sure this is wise?” Brighid asked, trying to save her driver from certain doom.

Mòrag swallowed, poking the sludge with her fork. “If our companion went through the trouble of cooking this, it would be rude not to eat it.”

“I poured my heart and soul into it,” Mythra said.

Ah, that explains why the food looks and smells like that, Brighid thought.

“If that’s the case, you should try it as well, Brighid,” Mòrag said.

No, don’t drag me into this mess, Brighid wanted to say but instead she said, “If you insist.” She pulled up a chair next to Mòrag and grabbed a plate. She forced herself not to gag as the putrid smell of the food grew closer.

Brighid collected the smallest piece possible on her fork and looked at her driver, who had done the same. They gave each other a slight nod and moved the forks to their mouths.

The taste itself was… indescribable, but it made Brighid feel like she had been thrown into the ocean, weakened by the water surrounding her. She fell off her chair and grabbed her gut as an ache started to form. She curled up into a ball, praying to the Architect to end the pain.

As much as she wanted to spend a long, long time with Mòrag, Brighid would not complain if she were to return to her core crystal right now.

Brighid used all of her remaining energy to look at Mòrag, who was still somehow sitting in her chair.

There was something wet on Mòrag’s cheek. A tear. she was... crying. Brighid had only seen Mòrag cry three times, first was when she was summoned, the second was at her father’s funeral, and the third was when Niall almost died.

“It tastes just like my mom used to make,” Mòrag said, voice quivering. She then did the impossible and ate another bite without dying.

While Brighid couldn’t exactly see it, she felt Mythra stare at her with a shit eating grin on her face.

She had written something in her journal about Ardainians having weird taste buds, but she had thought Mòrag was the exception.

Brighid grabbed her gut as the pain grew. Her vision started to blur.

She heard Mòrag ask to take some for leftovers. At least one of them was able to enjoy whatever it was that Mythra made.

Brighid took one last look at Mòrag’s face, she was still in tears but a smile had crept up on her face. It was a smile that Brighid had only seen when she and Mòrag were alone.

Before Brighid passed out in pain, she wondered if she should swallow some of her pride and ask Mythra to give her cooking lessons.


End file.
